


Theirs is a magical kind of love

by Aibhilin



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Ice Skating, Librarian!Yuuri, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aibhilin/pseuds/Aibhilin
Summary: The ice- that’s Victor’s homeland. Victor’s been born for this, been training so long for it that he’s now a natural at the very sport he keeps bringing gold medals back for.And Yuuri; Yuuri doesn’t have that. Doesn’t have a highly competitive sport to call his own, doesn’t have gold medals or the prestige that comes with landing a spot at the top of the ladder, trophy in hand.His is a quiet sort of job, the very quiet he perpetuates whenever he’s within the building where he works, a quiet that encompasses his very being. He’s of the quiet, shy sort, not outgoing or blatantly exuberant like Victor tends to be.But that’s never failed to appeal to Victor, yet.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14
Collections: Heart Attack Exchange 2020





	Theirs is a magical kind of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [C-chan (1001paperboxes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/gifts).



> This is a snippet collection more than one continuous story, although it does have that red thread running through it... I really don't know what to classify it as, seeing as there appears to be far less "plot" and far more "aesthetics" given descriptions, tbh ^_^'
> 
> It's for C-chan(1001paperboxes) and I hope you'll like this - you did ask for "well post-canon Victuuri", aaaaand my plot bunnies kinda ran away with that one...
> 
> It's a Soft AU, with - as you can see from the tagset - a librarian!Yuuri and I can already tell you you'll like the ending, most probably! :)
> 
> As such, prepare yourself some hot, steaming cocoa, maybe add some cookies, settle into your favourite chair (or place of reading) and have fun~!

Theirs is a magical kind of love.

It shows itself in the moments when the sun hits the blanket just right, illuminating the silver strands of hair all over both cushions, the head in the middle and the back of his hand caressing the sleeping beauty’s cheek.

This is a slow sort of morning, one where the two of them can take things slow, one at a time, one step after the other and do not have to hurry for once.

Getting up proves difficult, the blankets’ warmth crying out to him in a silent plea to be covering him again, but Yuuri manages to set one foot down into the soft, white carpet they bought just the other Saturday.

The fluffy carpet feels like heaven to his feet. Glancing back at the sleeping Victor, he’s reminded of the kind of heaven he’s created for himself and lets himself feel the warmth inside his chest.

His shoulders relax and he heaves himself up to head out the door, closing it softly behind himself so as not to wake the slumbering Russian on the bed.

There’s nothing in the world he’d trade for this.

Making a beeline for the coffeemaker, he switches it on, his eyes travelling alongside the photos of the two of them together that they have hung up along the walls. On every surface, there’s a little souvenir from their travels together, a photo in a frame or a trinket they’ve brought back that one or the other or both of them got interested in.

The home they’ve created together is homey, feels lived-in.

The safe haven they’ve built together is warming Yuuri from the inside, as he leans against the counter, waiting for the coffeemaker to finish heating up.

There’s light coming in through the curtains. Their pastel colour was chosen by Victor, he remembers, fondly thinking back to what that shopping spree has led to: lots of clutter and things they didn’t at first know where exactly to put when they bought them. They own a rocking chair, thanks to that, now, too.

Really, it’s been a while since they went all out like that, although St. Petersburg’s shopping centres offer a bigger choice than the ones in Hasetsu, he muses. Ah well. Victor’s first stop next season is going to be Tokyo, anyways, so Yuuri is sure they can squeeze in a family visit then.

The upward tilt to his lip is there to stay, he thinks.

There’s something bumping lightly against his left knee. Glancing down, he notices Makkachin greeting him, tongue lolling and all. His smile widens slightly. While the dog isn’t usually one to be overlooked easily, today his brain feels as if he’s wading through fog.

“I’ll get you your breakfast, too,” he mutters, reassuring the dog with a soft voice. Pushing himself off the counter, he leisurely ambles to the one on the other side, where they store the dog food. Makkachin, well familiar with how their kitchen is stocked, accompanies him, tail wagging.

Really, the dog just is the cherry on top of the cake that is Victor’s whirlwind of a life. The ice-skating, the bright-eyed shine he takes to everything that he finds the barest scrap of enthusiasm for, the unrivalled enthusiasm for life, the stories he tells with his dances across the ice-

Yuuri can’t get enough of it, frankly.

All of it is Victor, and Victor’s flamboyant personality is present in all of their flat, as well, he knows. There’s the tiny notes hanging on the pinboard just above the counter where the dog food is stored, all of them sweet reminders of the silver-haired man’s very presence. Some of them are elaborate love notes, some he wrote simply to remind himself of something – it never does work, but it does help Yuuri keep track of what it is Victor should be reminded of – and all of them were written by Victor.

His heart is bursting at the seams, just thinking of when he added each one of them. Quite a few he added in Yuuri’s presence, to remind him that he is loved, that he is very much cared for in this house and should never, ever, doubt that.

(When the doubts creep in, he knows where to look, for the notes are here to stay)

(as is Victor, but it’s more difficult to get himself to keep believing in that)

(for whatever reason, the notes serve as far better of a reminder of it)

His fingers briefly reach over to one of the notes, to caress lightly over that one, the one that says “Yuuri <3” and he blushes, again. Every single time he touches this one, he blushes. That’s a fact, by now, and his blushing hasn’t abated any, apparently.

To think-

That Victor is-

Is so much in love-

– With him! –

That’s somewhat unbelievable, he feels. It’s… almost like something out of a fairytale.

To distract from the blush, he moves down and gets the dog food out of the cabinet underneath the counter. Mechanical actions are good for that, for distracting from the thought that he’s- he’s loved. The upward tilt to his lips is joined by a blush that seems like it’s here to stay, as well.

His nose must be red – Victor is always telling him that whenever he blushes, there’s a reddish tint to his nose. It’s embarrassing. Yuuri’s just glad that Makkachin is the only one awake enough to see it covering his cheeks and face. Ah, he’s distracted from the doggy breakfast again, isn’t he?

Makkachin hurries him up by pushing his legs with her snout. The dog can tell quite well what Yuuri is preparing, right now, and wants in on the fun.

Yuuri smiles down at the poodle after handing her her breakfast, remembering how just the day before, they went on one of her favourite walks. No wonder the dog is excited today.

They went to Lake Ladoga, the biggest lake close to St. Petersburg, and idly ambled around the wooden areas nearby. Peaceful, that lake. The trees surrounding it gave off a Christmas-y feel already, although quite a few of them still sported their dark-reddish leaves. Most red leaves littered the ground to their feet, however, heralding in the new season, even though its start still is a few days off.

Comfortably packaged in their winter clothes as they were, Victor and Yuuri both having taken multiple days off their respective jobs, they have time – have _time_ on their hands that they can spend with family.

The leaves crunched underneath their feet, Yuuri remembers fondly. The sounds of the last birds present at the lake mixing with the wind and leaves and booted footsteps on the way.

The atmosphere was one of the most beautiful he’d ever had the joy to experience.

Every day with Victor is an amazing new joy to be found.

Yuuri got reminded of that, when the two of them had wandered around the lakeside for a bit, Makkachin playing joyfully in the piles of leaves, strewing them around all over the place. Fortunately, the piles didn’t seem to have been produced by a worker’s hands – had that been the case, either Victor or Yuuri would have called the dog back from doing that – but rather had accrued naturally, apparently.

With fondness in his eyes, Yuuri opens the gallery on his mobile phone to swipe through the images, the photos he’d taken a nice memory on top of his own. The colours were truly magnificent, weren’t they?

There were reds, a deep, dark blue that the lake’s surface was decorated with, along with greens from the evergreens all around the lake. Then there came a photo of Vitya and-

Yuuri’s eyes sparkle. That one was a good pic. Immediately saving it as his phone’s newest background picture, he goes back to moving through the gallery.

Several logs had fallen into the lake, Yuuri remembers. They’ve taken on weird shapes – there’s even one that’s faintly reminiscent of a dragon that they’d of course had to take a picture of on Victor’s urging. Victor has gotten inspiration from their trip there too, Yuuri knows.

Victor has taken inspiration where he can find it lately, and it’s given his latest performances a certain flair that’s inimitable. His performances tend to be showy, Yuuri knows, but coupled with these latest additions, they are simply amazing.

Victor is already looking for new music for the performances he’ll be doing next winter, he is nothing if not efficient and looking to the future already – and he thinks that Victor might have found at least one part of the soundtrack he’d like to use, inspired by yesterday’s walk.

What else would explain him having stayed awake until the early hours of the morning to look for that piece of music he’s had going through his head directly after their outing?

Yuuri’s happy that Victor can be this passionate about his job still, after all this time-

_“My passion comes from you, Yuuri!”_

And he has to blush just as he’s remembering those words that have been directed at him so many times already.

Which he still can’t quite bring himself to believe, truth be known. But it will come. Belief will be reaped when Victor keeps sowing that reassurance.

A book is lying innocently on the counter, having been left there by him the evening before. It’s got post-its bookmarking several pages that he’s eyeing speculatively now.

Contemplating just what he ought to choose out of the three recipes he flagged the evening before, he randomly opens it to one of the pages that have been bookmarked.

An image of a delicious kind of cookie is staring back at him, along with Russian. Lots and lots of Russian is covering the page, a detailed description of what he ought to do in order to properly prepare and bake said cookies.

Staring at the page, Yuuri can by now read a lot of it – although he had to ask Victor for the translations to some of the terms, he’s gotten quite proficient at reading the language, by now. Several kanji and hiragana litter the page – the translations he had to note down the day before, so as not to forget them.

The cookie is made of two star-shaped layers of cookie put together, with jam in-between the two pieces, holding them together. It looks delicious and Yuuri can’t wait to make a batch of them, himself.

Already the evening before, he’s prepared most of the utensils that he’ll need – and even found some ingredients already lying about, like flour and baking powder, which he subtracted from today’s shopping list. The kitchen already smells a little floury, what with the flour having entered the air unexpectedly when he’d tilted the package a tiny bit too far into one direction and spilled some the evening before.

Ah well. The joys of baking will soon be upon them! Outright grinning now, Yuuri’s already looking forward to Victor’s face when he wakes up to cookies baking in their oven.

He’ll most probably have that heart-shaped smile on his face, glowing at him with all the sparkles he can put into his eyes and his hands wringing together in front of him as he jumps about in excitement that he can barely contain.

(Yuuri wonders if Victor will be inspired by Yuuri’s baking expedition, too, if that’ll feature in one of the his skating programs some day in the near future)

(Humbled already, he has a light blush alighting his face at the thought of what sort of hand gesture will be used in the dance)

Heading to the clothing rack besides the entrance to their flat, he gets dressed, swiftly pulling on the thick woollen coat and not forgetting about wearing a hat, this time around, before heading outside.

(There might be more circling around in that performance, so that the cookie-forming will have an appropriate show, or maybe he’ll scratch stars into the ice in his endeavour of recreating the starry shape of them, the possibilities are endless)

Snorting on his way through the flat to gather what he’ll need – purse, check, keys, check, ID, check –, he calls for Makkachin to accompany him to the shop and gets into his shoes. Finished with his breakfast, the dog bounds up to him and lets him pull the dog harness over her neck obediently.

She’s a good dog, she is.

With a smile, he opens the door and heads out to hunt for the missing ingredients. Can’t have cookies without them, and the fresh air will serve to wake him up properly, too.

Indeed, it’s fresh air that’s streaming in from the outside but for moments and Yuuri makes sure to close the door and lock it behind himself. No need to shock Victor into waking up simply by having him head into their living room. There must be a window open somewhere in the staircase, for a slight breeze to be blowing inside the building.

Fortunately, he’s thought to wear some thick clothes and the woollen coat – they’ll keep him warm quite nicely, until he’s back again.

Going to the shop turns out to be a breeze. His Russian has gotten better and better during the time he’s lived in St. Petersburg and now he can recognize the items he needs within seconds, and doesn’t need minutes or what feels like hours to decipher the Russian printed on their packaging. The images help – but not by much, unfortunately.

And especially for stuff like sugar or vanilla sugar, he needs to know the proper Russian terms for those or he knows he’d mistake them for other things, _again_.

As it is, he’s done in a jiffy and heads home, Makkachin properly tied on her leash and accompanying him back.

When he comes back, Victor still hasn’t woken up and it’s mid-morning. Leaving him to sleep (or he might get another excuse thrown at him à la “I need my beauty sleep, Yuuri! Come here to cuddle with me~” and have to abstain from joining him or else he won’t get any baking done anytime soon), he takes the things he bought to the counter and, well, first he has to put away the cold things into the fridge.

Makkachin is happily munching on one of her toys in the corner of the room and so he has an uninterrupted period of time where he can contentedly sort stuff into the respective shelves of their flat.

Once that is done, he opens the cabinets that hold their baking ingredients and puts them onto the counter next to the ones he’s already prepared the day before.

Yuuri smiles down at the treasure trove of miscellaneous baking things in front of him.

Clapping his hands, he puts the apron on and rolls his shoulders. He has cookies to bake.

* * *

The second-to-last batch of cookies is baking away in the oven behind him, when Victor finally deigns to grant him his presence and drapes right across his back, while Yuuri’s rolling out the last piece of dough that he’s scrounged together from the former ones to throw in one last batch to be baked before he calls it a day.

A mesmerising smell is wafting through their apartment, the delicious aroma of ready-to-be-eaten cookies that have been laid out perfectly on one of their showy plates. They’d gotten these extravagant, painted ones, just for this sort of thing. Yuuri’s absolutely certain that Victor cannot help but put online a picture of the finished product as soon as he notices it.

But first, he has to cuddle up to Yuuri. Barely able to keep standing, Yuuri has to chuckle at Victor’s dedication to snuggling even while in a vertical position. Amused, he throws a smile back at Victor, letting him know that his attempts at destabilising him have not a) gone unnoticed and b) inconvenienced him in any way.

Putting the rolling pin away for the moment, Yuuri smiles at his lover. Victor in the mornings is an incredibly sweet thing to behold: his silver hair standing up in directions as-of-yet unknown to mankind, his eyes still filled with a sleepiness that Yuuri **knows** Victor only allows to show when they are by themselves, and his sleeping shirt is rumpled beyond repair.

It makes for an adorable sight, all in all.

Warmth curls in Yuuri’s stomach and it’s here to stay.

There’s that dog, there’s the loved one draped all over him and the cookies.

Theirs is a domestic scene out of a romance novel – one of the ones that Yuuri’s mom likes to read.

Yuuri wouldn’t have it any other way and revels in the scene, taking in the scent he can sense permeating the air around them.

* * *

The books smell of old, rarely told stories that have been circulating the world for all ages, but been told orally way before they’ve been written down. The shelves are neatly arranged, all corners used and space efficiently distributed so as to hold as many books as possible. The books themselves are of every size imaginable: there are thin ones, only holding a bare handful of pages and there are thick ones, with hundreds, no, thousands of pages to them. What mysteries they hold!

Leisurely, Yuuri ambles alongside some of the shelves, one book in hand, looking for the perfect place, the perfect location – ah, there. The indexing truly aids him in finding the book’s promised spot.

With a small satisfied smile, he puts the book in-between two others, topics aligning in their common interests. Theirs is not a major library, yet it houses the most eccentric of books, sometimes. Walking back to the tray that holds other yet-to-be-shelved books that he claimed as his task of the morning that day, he wonders what kind of person it was that borrowed the “Herbs and Werewolves” book he just shelved.

Had to be someone with at least a passing interest in both, he snickers quietly to himself, the bare threads of a story already forming in his mind of what a werewolf might find interesting in herbal knowledge. How would a werewolf be living, in the modern-day world? His eyes widen and he stumbles slightly as a thought enters his brain: what if Victor is a werewolf and he simply never noticed?

That makes him huff out a few more bouts of laughter, trying to keep quiet in the stuffy atmosphere of the library he’s working at, so as not to disturb any of the guests he can see reading at the tables that have been set up.

Focusing back on his task, he looks over the collection of random books he’s supposed to be shelving. There’s a few novels in there – ah, that one’s a horror story, he knows exactly what shelf it’s supposed to be on, good, – a lot of non-fiction ones and at least one language-learning one. Alright, then. Pushing the tray forwards, he rolls it quietly across the carpeted flooring.

It’s muffling the noise the cart may have made otherwise quite well, he knows.

* * *

Done with the shelving of the books, he goes back to the front counter, where he can already make out Victor, quietly talking to one of the librarians manning it. The small-talk is stopped, when the silver-haired man glances up and in Yuuri’s direction.

A heart-shaped smile settles on his face and his eyes close in happiness. “Yuuri!” he says joyfully and, although no one’s nearly close enough to have their reading interrupted by the man’s exuberance, Yuuri can’t help but look around quickly and shush him.

The librarians, well-used to his boyfriend’s – his boyfriend’s! – mannerisms, do nothing of the sort and only look on with a mischievous smile on their faces. Clearly traitors, those two.

Shaking his head, Yuuri tells Victor to shortly wait there, please, and don’t talk loudly! Before heading to the back area, directly behind the counter, where they’ve got a small kind of common room set up behind a bout of walls. Pulling off the sweater denoting him as library staff, he quickly puts on his own and then pulls the jacket over that. Switching his work shoes out for more reasonable outside ones, he smiles, again.

That’s Victor, out there. Every time he can get free, Victor he insists on picking Yuuri up from his job to go back over to the ice rink. Once there, he proceeds to spoil Yuuri, showing him the new programs that he’s training to use in competition.

(One of Victor’s rink mates, Yuri, is the one who called it “Spoiling Yuuri” once and the title kind of stuck)

(Victor’s exuberant answer of “Only the best for my Yuuri!” was the proverbial hammer on the nail for that)

(Yuuri’s never felt as cherished or as appreciated as he does in the moments when he gets to see Victor skate his best – for him!)

There's a smile tugging at his mouth's corners, ready to come out and _stay_ there, on his face, all day, when he's with Victor. It's his favourite hobby, having the silver-haired man close and simply spending some time with the world-famous figure skater.

* * *

And then it’s the case, once more: Victor’s fixed his skates to his feet, throws him a quick smile, filled with the promise of something good, of a show he’s prepared just. For. Yuuri. And then he’s standing, standing on the thin surface that is the shoes’ blades, and Yuuri can’t help but admire him for that.

Yuuri doesn’t have to help him reach the ice, doesn’t have to hold out a hand to hold onto and when he thinks back to his own tries on skates like those-

It’s amazing, the skills his boyfriend calls his own.

Then, Victor’s on the ice and nothing can stop him in his tracks anymore, nothing but Yuuri’s expression, Yuuri’s voice or Yuuri, himself.

Yuuri knows this, for he’s seen Victor, seen Victor skate, seen him fall and get right back into his flow, seen Victor avoid other skaters like it’s second nature to him during warm-ups to the competitions and seen him fly through the air and land on his feet like a cat on the ice.

The ice- that’s Victor’s homeland. Victor’s been born for this, been training so long for it that he’s now a natural at the very sport he keeps bringing gold medals back for.

And Yuuri; Yuuri doesn’t have that. Doesn’t have a highly competitive sport to call his own, doesn’t have gold medals or the prestige that comes with landing a spot at the top of the ladder, trophy in hand.

His is a quiet sort of job, the very quiet he perpetuates whenever he’s within the building where he works, a quiet that encompasses his very being. He’s of the quiet, shy sort, not outgoing or blatantly exuberant like Victor tends to be.

But that’s never failed to appeal to Victor, yet. Indeed, it’s an “endearing trait”, according to him, and Yuuri’s never quite sure what about him is so endearing that Victor stays. And he does stay. Remaining at Yuuri’s side has – for Victor, whenever Yuuri asks him, – become something of a refreshing change of pace, apparently.

He keeps saying that, at least.

“Yuuri!” The heart-shaped grin greets him from the ice.

Oh, right, he’s supposed to watch, isn’t he? Has he retreated into his own head again, without noticing?

That might be the case, he muses, resolving to watch, now. Taking care to focus on the exact movements when Victor starts up again, dancing to the left, in a circle, then going so far as to spin-

Yuuri’s amazed.

Held captive by the view, once he’s properly looking at his boyfriend, he can’t look away.

The story he’s telling seems a simple one, this time. It’s a love story – as all of his latest performances treat that topic, and treat it well – and the story about the pairing he’s enacting this time is breathtakingly beautiful.

There, Yuuri can see in that movement of Victor’s arm, how the lover yearns for their other, yearns with longing and a painful sort of belonging, too, and – he’s moved to tears, almost. They gather, unobtrusively, at the corners of his eyes, there to soon stream and streak down his cheeks and-

There’s a spin again, fate itself moving to prevent the lovers from being separated again, destiny itself intervening in what it can see is moving into a wrong direction, Victor readying himself to jump and destiny making a cut-

Into the strings of fate, retying the knots anew, for the two lovers to meet again and meet again and again and again and-

Be together, at last.

Victor ends the last spin with both arms across his chest, hugging himself.

The performance is-

Mesmerising.

Magnificent.

Magical.

A message, of sorts, he notices, when he sees how expectantly Victor is looking at him.

A message, for him?

Oh. _Oh_.

The tears flow freely, now, cascading down his cheeks.

That’s- he’s. The lovers, that’s them, isn’t it?

Theirs, that’s their love he’s depicting, on the ice, their love that he’s basically screaming into the world, their love that he’s painting onto the ice for all the world to see, their love that he’s drawing, slicing, into the cold ice beneath his feet.

And Yuuri’s just standing there, hands on his own chest, one upon the other, tears streaming down his face and eyes locked onto the approaching figure of Victor, onto Victor’s worriedly caring face, the eyebrows scrunched up in concern and-

Yuuri’s moving, his body’s stumbling closer to the edge where there’s the exit onto the ice and Victor’s coming closer as well and-

Is hugging him, as soon as he’s in a huggable distance.

The arms closing in around himself are warm, comforting, and Yuuri buries his face in Victor’s shoulder, having his arms go around the other’s waist automatically.

Theirs, indeed, is a magical kind of love.

* * *

His form is ethereal, his movements elegant, fluid. The ice is his floor, his stage and his home at once.

The surface yields to his shoes’ blades, creating a whimsical drawing of a floating dancer making their way throughout the threads of a story.

The story is being spun right in front of his eyes: this time it’s a young man, searching for the love of his life far and wide.

No one knows who the one he calls his love is, though, so the man moves on, from one place to the next in his eternal search. The expression on Victor’s face is yearning, one of longing for something, someone the man knows is out there, for him.

To whomever it may concern, his face seems to say, I would love to meet you, to finally stand right there, in front of your very figure and drink it in. I would love to see you with my own eyes, to see your eyes, your nose and mouth. To see your dress, your appearance and swear my undying love to you.

To whomever it may concern, the performance goes on to express, it’s hard to find you, in the millions of faces that watch me, in the millions of voices who talk to me and in the millions of hands that aid me.

But find you I will. He stubbornly looks on, telling the story of one who’s sure to find something, someone at the end of the road, the end of their way, the end of their search.

For there is someone to find, someone who is sweet and kind and lovely to love.

And Yuuri’s blushing from the sincerity, from the similarity to their own story that he finds in the overtones of the melody that’s entering a smooth violin solo in the background of the dance on the ice of which he is a spectator.

One out of a million to watch it, to follow the lines and curves that Victor leaves behind on the ice, that Victor draws alongside the gazes of the many watching him in rapt attention.

No-one’s eyes stray from his body, his grace and his fantastic telling of the story alongside the music that rings out through the hall.

The young man enters a hall of people, the delicate tones and melody denoting the presence of him inside what Yuuri pictures as a royal castle with guards and a steward, the slow rise and fall of the notes that the orchestra is playing helping to build up the imagery in his head. But the young man is told no affirmative in his search and leaves, yet again.

He comes across mountains and valleys and the stormy sea and the waves that crash against the harbour and an outcropping and there-

Victor comes to an abrupt stop on one foot shortly, pausing for all but a moment, before-

– he meets them, sees their flowing dress, their movements, their gestures and face-

And freezes.

Time stops with him, his heart jumps, then starts beating again and-

His lover smiles at him, seeing him for the first time.

It’s his love, his lover, the one he’s been looking for-

All along he’s been looking for them, been searching the land, far and wide and now-

They finally meet, for the first time, they meet, they see one another, they see each other’s face and look and **look**.

“My heart was yours all along.” He seems to say.

“And my heart was yours, my love.” His lover answers.

Extending them an arm, he offers it up with nary a glance to confirm their willingness.

With a graceful bow, they take it.

And their dance can start.

Sudden loud clapping unearths Yuuri from the trance he’s fallen into and he realizes that Victor’s standing in the middle of the ice with a smile on his face, his arms fanning out to his sides and his right leg crossed in front of the other.

Victor is smiling straight at him, it feels like, and he cannot look away.

The blush is not receding any.

* * *

They are curled up in front of the fireplace, blanket upon both their bodies covering every single corner they could think of- even their feet are tucked into the fluffy cosiness that is surrounding them comfortably. The evening is filled with a lull of activity, the news are on, playing a background noise that underlines the homeliness of the moment.

It is an off-day for Victor and Yuuri has managed to get a holiday, too, that particular day, so he can spend it with his favourite people, for once. The whole day long they have been outside, visiting a local museum and doing mock-sightseeing, armed with a camera, even though the two of them have already long-since spent time in all the museums and visited all the sights in the nearer vicinity.

The two have earned themselves a nice, cosy evening in, doing nothing other than rejoicing in each other’s company and snuggling up in front of the lit hearth’s fire.

Merrily, the flames are dancing in the digital fireplace that Victor has insisted they install in their flat. Yuuri can see its advantages, now that they are actually using it for the cosiness it was advertised to provide. Truly, they resemble an old couple already, what with the blankets, the fluffy slippers both of them are sporting whenever they move anywhere in the house and the throw cushions that are littering some of the extensive couch they are currently occupying.

This could be a scene from the future, Yuuri feels, and a smile graces his face.

He could get used to this, to having Victor this close, to spending time with him like this whenever possible, and to enjoying every single day and hour and minute that passes them by.

Really, he could get used to this, he thinks, his consciousness already sinking into a dazed sort of slumber that’s close to sleep, but not quite there yet.

Of course, that is the moment when the couch dips down, on one end, almost unremarked by its occupants, and gains an intruder upon the scene that they should have counted on from the start, truth be known.

Barking once, so as to make her presence known for everyone not deaf yet, Makkachin touches down with her paws close to Yuuri’s left side. What with Victor occupying his right, he dazedly blinks out of his stupor, just briefly, before letting his head fall back to come to a rest against Victor’s body once more.

Makkachin will find a place to snuggle down with them, whether he offers her one or not, he thinks blearily to himself.

And that’s what their dog does: considering her position calculatingly, she sniffs and huffs at the blankets covering her favourite humans, before the dog pragmatically plops down at Yuuri’s other side, warming it comfortably against the cold.

There are by now two bodies framing his from both sides, and there’s a haze in the air of the warmth they are exuding, the love they have surrounding them and settling in with them.

It’s here to stay, after all. Yuuri should really learn to count on his favourite beings to be there, at his sides, whenever they can and his smile grows in response to that thought.

It’s warmth he feels surrounding him.

It’s warmth, right there, besides him.

It’s warmth he feels in his heart.

Warmth that grows and grows brighter, like a flame, a tiny candle’s flame, a fire that’s dancing, just out of reach, outside of anyone’s influence but their own, a flame that’s growing and growing brighter each day, that’s nourished by their care, their attention and soft kindness.

And Yuuri can’t help but smile, in light of that.

* * *

His performance is in a few minutes, Yuuri knows. And still, and still.

Having snuck in through the back door that was unmanned for one, brief moment, he’s made his way into the general direction of where he knows the men’s waiting room is, however he thinks he might’ve gotten lost when he’s taken a left turn at the toilets. Huh, he doesn’t know this area of the stadium that much.

Stubbornly, Yuuri ventures on. He has a mission to complete, after all.

Won’t do to back out now, when he’s this close to fulfilling what he’s come here for.

Clutching his treasure close to his chest, he ambles down another of those self-same corridors that all have no distinguishing feature, to him.

He sighs, loudly.

His eyebrows scrunch up his forehead. Perhaps he ought to leave it be?

In the end, he could simply give Victor his gift directly after the performance, too, when he would meet him in the hotel lobby…

But no. Shaking his head roughly, he bravely moves on, heading forward towards where he thinks the stadium’s ice rink will be located.

Shouldn’t he come upon it soon?

“Oi, Katsudon!” a young, rude voice makes him halt in his tracks.

* * *

The audience is clapping, screaming their lungs out and cheering for the performance that’s been just ahead of his.

There’s moments to spare, seconds, maybe a minute, before he has to get on the ice, himself, and he closes his eyes to centre himself.

Victor has to smile when the first thing that pops up in his mind’s eye is Yuuri.

Yuuri cheering for him, Yuuri caressing Makkachin’s fur on the sofa and Yuuri’s eyes sparkling as he recounts the story that he saw Victor perform moments before.

Victor knows that the story he sets out to tell is interpreted differently by all the different people who see it, but Yuuri’s interpretations and renditions of his tales have never so failed to hit as close to home as no one else thus far has managed.

They’re dear to his heart, all of Yuuri’s retellings. Never is Yuuri so open as when they’re at home and he can build his hands and arms and body into the interpretations that he has to inform Victor about every time he so much as prompts him.

There’s not a spot in the world that Victor would rather choose to be than right there, at Yuuri’s side, when he mirrors the story that Victor strove to tell on the ice.

The cheering grows quieter and a hand lands on his shoulders.

“Vitya.” His coach calls his name and that’s all that’s needed for him to be prepared. He’s ready.

“Vitya!” The second time his name is called in as many minutes arrests him in his tracks, however.

Surprised, he turns around, only to end up with a handful of Yuuri who has obviously stumbled and fallen right into his arms.

Good thing his balance is better while on blades.

Blinking, he remains stupefied, as Yuuri rights himself and straightens.

Most importantly, though, the younger man tells him, “Good luck!” with a stubborn set to his jaw and a blush spreading over his nose.

It’s the most endearing thing Victor has seen all day.

His mouth responds to the utterance by raising the corners of his lips and he lets the most besotted, heart-shaped smile pass his face, fully acknowledging the camera flashes going off to the side of them.

Instead of any verbal answer, he nods and heads to the edge of the rink. Throwing one last glance – and a wink, he can’t help himself and the answering blush that is visible from the ice feels like a balm on his soul, – back at the love of his life, he corrects his assertion mentally.

He wasn’t really ready, before.

 _Now_ he is.

* * *

The dance is – as always – amazing to watch. His eyes cannot look away, from the moment when the music starts, Yuuri’s eyes are glued to his partner who moves out of his starting position to draw his arms up to both sides, then turn once around himself and-

Move to the left, hitting the ice, barely making a scratch in it, as the music picks up in speed, a beat hitting Yuuri’s ears every other second, the rhythm picking up in intensity and then-

A melody interlopes, interferes in the fluidity of the movements, in the continuity of the dance and-

A note, another note-

A breather between two parts, then the ante is upped as-

The falling of notes transitions into a speedy, exhilarating music with a noticeable beat and-

Ethereal, the gestalt of Victor floating across the ice is all that Yuuri can focus on, is all he can sense, is all he can _see_ -

There’s another story there, Yuuri knows. It’s one they’ve talked about earlier, talked about quite a few times already, in fact. It’s one he knows like the back of his hand-

It’s theirs.

This is their story.

Victor tells their story, here.

He tells the audience how they met, in-between aisles of books,

Tells them of the laughter that followed, the dates they’ve been on, the incident with Makkachin-

And then, he tells of their love.

Of their love for one another.

Of their love of the other.

Of how their love transformed them.

Of how their love has become part of their very lives.

And of how their love was the one thing they couldn’t leave behind, wouldn’t ever leave behind-

Wouldn’t ever, in a million years, in a million different lifetimes, want to miss out on.

Neither of the two would.

The silver hair flows freely around his face, framing his expression in ways nothing else can.

His costume is glittering on one side, with hues of silver, red and blues competing for the first spot in Yuuri’s view.

There is a wealth of emotions he can feel welling up inside of himself.

Crossing his hands in front of his chest, he breathes out.

This, right here, is their story, their very story.

Being told on the ice, in ways which Yuuri can read.

It is there in that dance, in that very performance, in Victor’s very being, intrinsically linked to his very existence, like the threads of fate have been, from the very start.

And Yuuri-

Yuuri breathes it in, takes it in to the very last note and holds the energy to his chest.

This-

This man is who he has fallen for.

This is the man he has fallen in love with, the one he has chosen for his life.

This is the one he will choose again, every single day that follows this one, will choose and choose and choose-

Until the very last one he has left.

This is Victor.

And Yuuri loves him, cannot stop loving him, with all his heart.

The melody’s last few tones ring out into the silence of the stadium, the ice reverberating their beat into the breathless silence encompassing the audience, vibrating off the floor, the walls, the _hall_ -

Yuuri lets out a breath he’s been holding when-

Victor turns around and his eyes meet Yuuri’s and-

He’s moving, is moving towards the area, the door, the hole in the fence that’s keeping them apart and-

His hand closes around one edge of the barricade, holding him up, holding up his body and his heart-

is threatening to beat right out of his chest, threatening to burst with fervour and emotion and _love_ -

And then Victor is there, is in his arms, is encompassing his very being, his very soul.

There’s a breath, there, complete and utter silence, for Yuuri doesn’t hear the audience, has eyes only for Victor and is breathless and his heart full and-

They smile. They smile at one another, smile at the togetherness they can feel in their lungs, their arms, their hearts.

They smile, for all the world to see, mindless of the photos that are being taken of them together, in each other’s embrace, like that, in the very stadium where Victor is going to win a medal-

And points are insignificant, do not matter at all, in their eyes, not if they can have _this_ , all the time.

Not if they can share this with one another. Points won’t matter at all, then.

Naturally, Yuuri accompanies Victor to the Kiss and Cry when they are urged to head there by Victor’s coach, but they do it with eyes only for the other and look up at the results when they come in with a glassy, faraway look on both their faces-

Yuuri knows his friends will share a copy of the video recordings, later.

* * *

They’re walking Makkachin, icy frost turning the grass in the nearby fields white with a dusting of what looks, to Yuuri, almost like sugar. Oh, he longs for a hot cup of chocolate, already. The sweet aroma, non-existent in the icy air before him, is enticing him with its fragrance already. Yes, he’ll make them one, as soon as they get back home again.

The dog is barking, borfing lightly, excitedly wagging its tail in its happiness to be outside, with them, and explore the neighbourhood for yet another time.

Poodles don’t need much, he’s learned, to be happy. Animals in general, don’t seem to need as much as humans sometimes do.

Fresh air, a playmate, food and drinks and a safe place to sleep. There’s joy to be found in the simplest of things.

Hand in hand, they make their way alongside parks, watching other people ambling through the places and towards unknown goals and pigeons taking flight high above, wandering from one rooftop to another in an indeterminable pattern.

It is peaceful, a calm scenery they come across on the few walks they get to enjoy together, these days.

With winter coming upon them, Victor’s schedule clashes quite vividly with Yuuri’s at times.

Even though both make do as best they can, the performances Victor has to be present for are not always on the best dates, and on more than one occasion they had to decide between a rock and a hard place, it feels like.

This day, however? This day, they can freely enjoy each other’s company, revel in their togetherness and spend the day arm in arm, however they would like to.

Those days are treasures, treasure troves of memories yet to be made, experiences yet to be gathered and closeness to be enjoyed to the fullest.

Yuuri is overcome with relief that their momentary timetables allow them such freedoms.

And Victor smiles a lot, on those days, too.

Even if Yuri calls it “gross” at times and wrinkles his nose at their mutually enjoyable shenanigans, for the two of them? This, right here, is bliss.

(And it’s not nearly as bad as the youngest ice skater makes it out to be, Yuuri knows)

(Victor and the other skaters have long-since known to reassure the Japanese of that)

(Victor does whatever he wants and not even Yuuri can stop him from teasing Yuri)

The sun is out and there are barely any clouds to be seen in the sky. It’s a magical kind of day and, when far too soon their walk comes to an end, Yuuri is reminded how Victor and he do share tastes, sometimes.

For, once he’s put away Makkachin’s things and settled the dog down in her dog bed at the foot of the couch, he can already smell the fantastic aroma that he has only dared fantasize about, earlier.

Just a moment later, Victor comes around the corner, cautiously and slowly balancing two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands, not spilling a drop. Carefully, he deposits one on the couch table and smiles at Yuuri.

Yuuri smiles back.

“Cheers!” he says softly.

“Cheers!” Victor says back.

And he knows it well as the “love you too” that was intended all along.

Victor is there, beside him, on the couch, enjoying a hot cup of chocolate with him and-

It’s a magic he cannot compare to anything but the love they share.

* * *

There’s another performance, of course there is, they won’t end until Victor feels like he would like to end his career, where the silver-haired man is dancing across the ice in magical swirls and curves, the circles he’s leaving behind a mark on the ice – to be remembered, for as long as it stays engraved into the icy substance, for as long as it’s not overwritten with more and more intricate ones that delete the previous ones.

He’s making his mark in more than one way, every single dance of his being at the same time engraved into his own memory, every official performance being recorded by cameras and every single dress rehearsal being visited by Yuuri. This one reminds Yuuri of how he saw Victor perform for the first time ever.

It’s mixing old elements with new ones – ones that even Yuuri hasn’t yet been privy to, in all the time the Victor rehearsed in their flat so far – and gives off a nostalgic kind of vibe. Yuuri is brought back to how Victor came to his library for an event, saw him for the first time in-between two shelves, sorting books, while everyone else was having fun as a group and-

They hit it off from the start, started dating then, the two of them together.

And then-

One performance, bringing back Victor’s streak of golden medals to be tied around his neck, with Yuuri in attendance is all that is needed for Victor to – after that, singular, performance, to-

start running in his direction and, once he reaches the railing of the edge of the stadium, to-

throw himself at Yuuri and make them both fall over while _kissing_ -

the silence in the stadium was kind of impressive, really, in retrospect, deafening as it was.

(He’s seen the recordings that his parents and friends still to this day treasure and carefully handle whenever they show them off)

It’s a treasured memory, deafening silence, the roaring audience thereafter, the ice underneath seeping into his clothes, Victor’s hand cushioning his head and his lips on Victor’s-

The scene was magic, personified.

Nothing ever quite comes close to its splendour, to its wonder and charm.

Yuuri hasn’t ever found its likeness anywhere else but-

In their love, itself.

For theirs is a love that is filled with the most magic he can think of, the most magic he’s ever felt used-

“The best kind of magic there is,” he’s been told once, “is the love that is shared.”

And he knows it to be true, too.

The performance he’s watching now, the one that’s brought him to venture down memory lane, the nostalgia-filled remembrance of a time long gone-

It’s amazing, just how much Victor’s love for him shines through, in those particular moments.

Clutching his shirt close to his heart, Yuuri thinks he’s lucky.

With a smile tinged with fondness, he keeps watching his love dance, for all the world – and, most especially, for him.

* * *

The library archive’s dusty air is stale, as if the books on their shelves haven’t been moved in centuries, Yuuri thinks within the safe confines of his brain.

This, however, is his home, the place he’s most familiar with, the spot he’s carved out for himself among all the others that could have been taken and were on offer.

It’s one close to stories, close to plots of half-sunken places, characters with abandoned arcs wielded by the finest artists and their assistants. This is where he feels the most at home, besides his spot at Victor’s side.

He’s ambling through the shelves, the books changing every other minute in size, thickness and make-up. Their covers are unique, every single book’s is, and they’re set one besides another, in a never-ending row of storylines unfolding.

There are books of all sorts here, fantastical ones as well as ones with a more realistic view on the world.

There are books about dragons, book series about a family’s fortune and tiny journals covering a lifetime of the past.

There are magazines at the front, alongside postcards and drawings that’re hung on the wall.

They lend books and stories of all sorts, here, and Yuuri is particularly fond of the ones that can barely be grasped.

These stories that are recounted by pictures alone, of dancers, of performers, have held his attention for longer than he can think.

That’s how he stumbled upon Victor, for the first time, back then.

His face and lithe body was depicted on one of the posters that Yuuri came across, one day.

The draw, the pull that he’s felt tugging him towards Victor hasn’t left him, ever since.

In the end, it’s all turned out for the best – and the two have found one another in this life.

Yuuri still has to fight a blush, whenever he thinks back to that point in time.

Unbidden, the memory returns and Yuuri is reminded of how he saw Victor perform for the first time ever.

The dance was beautiful, the performance breath-taking in its simplicity and the moves mesmerising.

Yuuri thinks back to how Victor came to his library just after that, for an autograph signing session, a special occasion and one that Yuuri for once was too slow to duck out of.

Instead, Victor saw him, met him in one of the breaks his agent allotted to him, stumbled across him in-between two shelves between the letter “K” and the ones thereafter, sorting books, while everyone else was having fun as a group and-

They hit it off, from the start.

They started dating then and-

The rest is history, as they say.

Incredibly, their lives match.

Their stories are intertwined.

Their careers are compatible.

Their hearts are in love.

Taking a deep breath, he shakes himself out of the memory, raising an arm to put the book he’s holding into its designated place between two others, the titles of which start with the same letter.

Who’d have known that their letters – “K” and “N”, so close together in the Latin alphabet, would turn out to bring the two of them together? Sometimes, fate is a hilarious jokester, playing pranks upon the most unsuspecting victims. And at other times, it ties two strings together, never to be separated again. Theirs is a story of the latter sort.

Theirs is a story that transcends careers, transcends boundaries wherever it can.

Had he not seen that poster, had he not been at that performance, had Victor not come to that autograph event-

Fate would have intervened, Yuuri is sure of it.

Breathing in the scent of old books, novels, _stories_ that’s permeating the air all around him, he smiles.

* * *

Makkachin’s snout is budging against his knee again.

The morning’s a slow one, one where he can rise whenever he wants to – and Victor can, as well, which sweetens the day for him already. But as of yet, he’s the only one awake.

Makkachin barks.

Well, one of the only ones awake, so far.

The sun’s barely risen and the air is crisp, outside.

Opening a window, he lets the air cool the room a little.

Soon, winter will be upon them and snow will be lying outside and coating every available surface, from the cars to the sidewalks.

But at the moment? That time is a far-off one, not yet in sight, albeit it’s already announcing itself quite sufficiently, with the air cooling more and more, the more time passes them by.

There are leaves on the ground outside and a few people are walking alongside the streets.

The coffee machine is heating up with a roar behind him. A smile graces his face.

Faint Russian can be heard in the background.

It’s a far cry from the Japanese that he’s grown up with, but he’s well-used to the sounds by now.

The daily commute to the library has made him familiar with the nature of the locals surrounding him and a bit of their culture, as well.

With another smile, he wonders if Victor will whisk him away to yet another adventure that they’ll go on, that day or if he would prefer for the two to stay inside, this time?

Yuuri doesn’t mind either way.

Getting to know the city he’s chosen to live in together with Victor is an amazing thing every time they do it. Nothing is boring with Victor around. Makkachin just adds to the chaos, some days.

Victor’s whims and changes of pace are an amazing thing to behold, at times. The skater gets his inspiration from the most mundane things, Yuuri has found out, and is very fond of the fact that he is the one to figure that mystery out, at all.

“There is magic in the mundane.” Is a saying Yuuri has heard once, and he would be the first one to attest to its truthfulness.

He hasn’t ever made the leap, but… their love is quite the mundane one, when it comes down to it, isn’t it?

It’s in all the little things, the tiny gestures and smallest acts and talks that they share between one another.

It’s in the hugs and the dances and all the times they’re laughing together.

It’s in the kisses they exchange and the stories they tell each other.

It’s all around them, there every day, for them alone.

It’s them, their being together, time spent.

Their love is a magical thing, he thinks, because it’s present in all of Victor’s performances, as well.

This love, this all-encompassing feeling, is one that Yuuri thinks he wouldn’t want to miss for the world.

A door creaks open slightly to his left. The coffeemaker’s button is pressed and it pours coffee into a cup that’s put underneath it.

Glancing to the left only yields him a hug from behind, a blanket-covered Victor snuggling blearily into his shoulder for a few more seconds of rest.

The smile is here to stay, indeed, Yuuri feels, and cannot help but allow the fondness to spread throughout his whole body at the sweet, sweet being that’s attached to his back.

Victor is not all that awake yet, snuggling into his back like the giant limpet that Yuuri knows he can imitate – and imitate very well, at that. For several long, comfortable moments, the two stay like that, Victor leaning on Yuuri and the coffee brewing right in front of them.

Then, Yuuri decides that if there is coffee, it ought to be drunk while it is warm and that is that. Slightly regretfully – visible in the pout that Victor now sports – he is being let go of, only to return to Victor’s side at the small breakfast table they have installed in their kitchen.

Makkachin is joining them there, putting her snout into Yuuri’s lap, clearly and obviously demanding to be pet and not accepting no for an answer at all, nope.

Yuuri is quick to oblige her with a fond smile.

Theirs is a love to be shared.

A love to be divided and one which multiplies with each being that’s being brought into its vicinity.

Theirs is a love that is magical, visible around themselves and spreading and covering everyone they come into contact with.

It’s a love that Yuuri is proud of, one that snuggles up to his heart to nest in it and _stay_.

Every single day, he is glad of it being there-

Every single day, he is proud to call it his-

Every single day, he chooses it anew.

And Victor is there for him, for this love of theirs, for its continuance, every single day.

* * *

Bonus:

“Vitya!” he chokes out, hands hiding his face that’s burning red right behind them, legs shaking and the music in the background underlining every. Single. Word. That Victor keeps singing off-key.

“Dancing on the blades, you set MY HEART ON FIRE!” he shouts out for all the world to see, embarrassingly loud and uninhibited by some irksome shame that might’ve gotten in the way. Well, at least they are alone, for now, the giant ice hall empty save for the two of them serenading one another.

Nonetheless, Yuuri’s sure Yuuko’s filming all of this, the traitor. “Preserving it for the world”, yeah right.

“Don’t stop this now,” he pauses, heart-shaped smile ready on his face and directed straight at Yuuri,

“The moment of truth, we were born to make history!” he turns on his blades, elegantly stretching out his arms as he curves around Yuuri,

“We’ll make it happen,” he brings his hands in to his chest,

“We’ll turn it around” and turns in time with the lyrics demanding it,

Fanning one hand towards Yuuri, he sings, “Yes, we were born to make history!” and Yuuri can’t help but go back to hiding behind his hands’ palms once more, having created an opening briefly to see what’s happening. Bad decision, that, for now his face resembles more of a tomato than it did before.

It’s only when Victor gently pries his hands off his face that Yuuri properly looks at the figure skater, giving him his whole attention, even though he still feels his cheeks flaming up, challenging the sun for its glow from what he can feel.

Victor asks him, “Dance with me?” and what else can he do but nod in response to that request?

The rest of the lyrics he’s brought along, dancing together with Victor – he’s dancing alongside a gold medalist of a figure skating legend and-

And doesn’t feel smaller than him, at all, for all that he’s expected that feeling to be all-encompassing, overwhelming in its presence.

Instead, they’re gliding across the ice in a well-choreographed dance that’s appropriate to his level of ice-skating skill. It doesn’t seem like Victor minds, either, Yuuri notices when he glances up at the other man.

Gold medalist or not, librarian by daytime or not – that doesn’t matter, here. On the ice, everyone is equal, Victor has once said and it’s stuck with him. It struck him as inspired, once, long ago, when he’s heard that for the first time, although these days he knows it to be true.

The ice doesn’t care if you’re old or young, if you know how to ice skate or not.

The patterns you create in the ice will fade, with time. They won’t stay, won’t remain except for in the memories of the people creating them.

What matters most about ice-skating, is the person you’re doing it with and who you’re doing it for.

And that’s the most magical thing Yuuri can think of, the ice bringing people together like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, dear readers?
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this one~ thanks to the organisers of the Heart Attack Exchange for managing this challenge!!! I had a blast, altogether!  
> A _HUGE_ thank you goes out to [Eccentric_Hat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eccentric_Hat/pseuds/Eccentric_Hat) for their help in beta-ing this fic!!! They did a great job and were incredibly fast!!!!  
> I hope I didn't overlook anything while editing this one... ^^'
> 
> If you've got a moment to spare, I'd love a comment? =^_^=


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